


Requiem for Your Future

by chaoticmelody



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:10:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticmelody/pseuds/chaoticmelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adjusting to the past is difficult for someone who knows how everyone will die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem for Your Future

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece a long time ago, and it has finally migrated over to AO3. It was written before Before the Dawn came out, so it's slightly AU now. However, I really love writing Bart and how he must feel out of place in a different time. So enjoy!

It's not the big things that are jarring to you. It's the little things that everyone else believes is normal. These are the things that remind you how strange, how different, and how cold your world is. It's like when someone makes a pop culture reference, and you laugh, but you don't understand. It's like everyone is speaking a different language. Is this what M'gann felt like when she came to Earth? Or what Kaldur thought when he first set foot on the surface? Everything is different, nothing like what Neutron tried to teach you before you left. But that's okay. You're good at hiding.

The first night you arrived was overwhelming. You stood, shellshocked, in the Garrick's bathroom, arms rapidly filling with the numerous items Joan believes are necessary for a shower. Luxuries you were vaguely aware existed, yet never got a chance to try. Things like  _shampoo_ , or soap that smells like lavender. Jay yells for her to give you some privacy, and she smiles at you. You smile back, and take the pile of clothes she's handed to you.

"Sorry. They're only Wally's hand-me-downs, and we just got you a cheap pair of flip-flops from the drugstore. We can go out tomorrow and get you some new stuff." That's fine with you. You've never worn clothes that weren't lived in before. You close the door and lock it. Some part of you is still telling you to be wary, that someone might try to attack you or steal something while you're vulnerable, and you briefly consider hiding your uniform while you shower, but dismiss it. Right now, you're safe, which is new and scary for you.

The water is warm, a miracle in and of itself. Before, (or after, it's hard to tell.) you would have had to drag buckets of water from the underground streams below the wreckage of Mt. Justice, then heat them by fire. Too difficult, takes too long, and leaves you too open for attack. It would never have been worth it. Some of the larger settlements have running water, but you're a scavenger. Before you found Mt. Justice and you purpose in life, you lived anywhere you could.

You forego some of the products Joan gave you in her quest to make you comfortable. You don't really know what some of them do, and you would rather not find out the hard way.

You try not to take too long in the shower. You feel bad for foisting yourself onto the Garricks like this, but it's the safest place for you to stay. They'll be dead by the time you're born. Actually, most people are, but they're the only ones you know who die naturally.

Before you go to bed, they tell you to help yourself to the fridge. After all, growing speedsters need a lot of calories. You wouldn't know. You've spent you whole life starving. Fast metabolism or not, food has always been in desperation.

The room is comfy, and for a boy who can't remember the last time he slept in a real bed, if ever, it's more than enough. Your sleep patterns are still screwed up, and you awake early and suddenly, your brain screaming with fight-or-flight. An unfamiliar place surrounds you, and it takes a few minutes to stop shaking and to remind yourself where you are, and when you are. You slip into your act easily, pushing down all the fear and pain that you left behind. And that is waiting for you in the future.

* * *

You're sleeping over at Jaime's tonight. Your relationship is a little weird, but it works. You agree not to ask about what the scarab says inside his head, and he's agreed not to ask about the future. It's a friendship built on paranoia and secrets, but he's you first friend, and you understand each other more than anyone else does.

Both of you are lying on the floor of his room, playing a board game. You've never played one before. You're pretty good at cards or dice, and you've won some meals from them. But moving brightly colored pieces around a board and receiving money is pointless, and fun. Jaime wins, of course. At least, he was winning when his little sister maliciously kicked over the pieces. You end up chasing her around the house, and it ends up as a three way, full on pillow fight. Alliances are formed, then broken as quickly as possible. Eventually, the scarab comes out and blows up a pillow, which leads to him being embarrassed and you and Milagro collapsing in laughter as feathers come down and tickle you face.

For once, your smile doesn't feel fake.

As Jaime changes, you drape yourself over his bed flipping through the books on his shelf. You've seen some old books before, but in the future you've never gotten to read any. Books are dangerous, and have been mostly eliminated. There are more important things to learn in the future. Like when to run, and when to fight, and when to just stay still and take it. How to stay alive.

Neutron has tried to teach you, but other things have been on your mind. Like scavenging and hunting and stealing to feed you both, and to supply the parts you used to cobble together your last hope. Reading and writing hasn't been much of a priority.

This book calls to you, though. The cover reminds you of a poster you've seen before. A girl in a blue dress, and a grinning cat. Alice in Wonderland, you slowly sound out. Oh. It's Artemis's book. You stuff it back on the shelf before Jaime walks in.

Sleeping that night is hard. The scarab's presence terrifies you. Looking at Jaime's face is fine, but when he turns around you can see it, and faint outline lying dormant under his shirt. Memories surface, clips from an old security tape you salvaged from Mt. Justice.

Red blood pooling around fragments of green Kryptonite, ashes and twisted white flesh. A small body, broken and oozing green, teeth still bared in a snarl. (When he asked, you didn't have the heart to tell him, but you knew. Gar would never become the leader of the team, or join the Justice League, or get a reality show. He'd die at age thirteen, a messy, painful, pointless death.) Long blond hair turning brown and crusty, lying near a body cut nearly in half. At least they still had bodies. At least they died still themselves. Jaime was not that lucky.

No wonderlands. No silver lining. No heartbeats.

You have to fix it, but you don't know how. Jaime's the key to this puzzle, the part everything revolves around. You need to keep him safe. You'll do anything. You've sacrificed everything for this, and you'll keep sacrificing.

Kaldur understood that. Artemis understood that. Tula, and Jason, and Ted Kord all did, too. Sacrifice is part of the gig, and you know this all too well.

Once you put on a mask, you forfeit your chance at a happy ending.


End file.
